Ghostbusters Nightsquad: The Golden Girl
by Hyakurin9
Summary: Nightsquad admits three new hires: this is one of their stories. Rated for language and adult situations. Please R&R.


_KLERK-SHOOK-CHING_

She waited for that noise to finish transpiring before she slipped the next quarter into the pay phone slot. As she reached to slide in another she caught the reflection of her nails in the metal housing that guarded the coins and realized they were chipped. She fanned her fingers out and made an unfeminine grunt of dissatisfaction before sort of jamming the last of her coins into the machine.

She pressed the receiver firmly to her ear and threw her other arm up over the black outside casing of the payphone, pulling herself close to it as if she was sharing some secret shame with it. The other end crackled as it rang…someone better fucking answer.

There was a sudden click, "Nightsquad, it's bar hour, so, this better be good."

She smirked, "hey, buddy," the way she annunciated that last word signaled both that she knew him and was equally full of shit.

Ghostbusters: Nightsquad

_**The Golden Girl**_

_Kay G._

"Sacroculo? Is that you, girl?" She lifted her arm up only to discover a smear of God knows what on the lavender sleeve of her button down shirt as the question was asked.

"Yeah, man, it's me," she answered as she leaned to the side and then backward into the gray concrete wall beside the phone.

"How the hell are ya?" He asked with a rasp between cigar buffs.

"I've got a favor to ask of you," she said that as she began to anxiously twirl the ends of her breast length wavy brown hair. "I just got off the phone with my lawyer-"

"Where are you?" He cut her off before she could nervously stumble through there rest of what she had to say without incriminating herself- he knew this at least- he knew her anyway.

She didn't answer for a tick, that same kind of fucked up silence that comes before having to admit to the bong mom found under your bed. "Flagler County Jail."

The other end of the receiver erupted into laughter and she pulled herself close to the payphone again. That's how you told secrets in jail; or maybe not.

"Ha, ha, ha, get it out, fat ass, and listen up. These quarters haven't left me with much time to tell you this, but here's the gist of it. I just got off the phone with my lawyer and this is the best solution he could come up with for my situation."

"What did you _do_?" He was still laughing and seemingly ignoring her.

"Let's just say if you don't give me a job I'll be stuck in more than just a holding cell for a little while," a woman's voice chimed in suddenly to tell her she a minute left, "just tell me you can do it and I'll tell you the rest when I'm out. I'm only going to be in holding until my lawyer gets here from Miami for council," she wiped the skin beneath one of her brown eyes with the back of her hand and then proceeded to rub away the black mixture of mascara and eyeliner left behind on it.

"_WHAT?_" He was still laughing.

"BO! I know this is hilarious, and it normally would be if this Mayberry had a drunk tank, but instead I'm getting the book. If you don't give me a job and bail me out I'm going to be passed around by Barney Fife for cigarettes for a couple months."

"There's no way you get that much for public drunkenness."

"…you do for assault."

"_Assault_?" And the laughing began again.

"Bo, seriously-" Time's up. The dial tone rang loudly in her ear. "Mother fucker!" She slammed the receiver back down into its hanging cradle.

* * *

"Sacroculo! You've made bail!"

The brunette nearly fell over at the sound of her own name being called. Bail? Who the fuck was dumb enough to post bail? She tittered a bit on her perch, desperately trying to inhale and exhale her cigarette out through a tiny and cliché barred window at the back of her cell. It was the smell of cheap whiskey and dandruff shampoo that suddenly wafted toward her that she knew who'd come to get her and why she didn't bother to move and continued with her smoke.

"Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes," he said that through a smiling blonde goatee.

Indeed she was, there, shakily balancing on bare tip toes on an aluminum bench smoking through a window was Kay. Lavender blouse only half tucked into a high waisted, black, knee length pencil skirt. Her hair looked like it was probably once pulled back into some sort of style but now hung messily on her head. What was most likely expensive make-up was some how smudged around in a mixture that looked as though it were made of sleep and a half assed attempt to fix it after.

"O-M-G, if it isn't the man of my dreams."

"Girl, what did I _tell_ you about smokin' in _my_ cell?" The middle aged black, lady, deputy beside Holbrook barked as she opened the cell door with a heavy shove.

Kay tossed her butt through the bars of the window, "I told you, I have a condition."

Her bare feet slapped along the concrete flooring as she made her way through the open bars, "what happened to your shoes?" The larger man asked as she stopped in front of him.

"It's a long story, I told you that," she answered as she hugged him.

"Is this foreplay?"

She pushed herself away from him and answered with a hardy "fuck you!" and followed it with a hard punch to the shoulder. "Has anyone told you it's inappropriate to wear flannel in Florida?"

"I cut the sleeves off because I knew I was comin' down here."

Kay was quiet for a second; she let out a heavy breath, like she'd been holding it for some time, before she looked up and simply stated, "I need a drink."

For whatever reason, whether because she didn't know the town well enough to go else where or because she had no shame, Kay lead Bo right back to the very bar she left in handcuffs only two nights before. She couldn't help it though, it was dirty and graffiti ridden and the cloud of cigarette smoke that hung in the air was more something akin to London fog than what it really was. She liked it.

* * *

They sat on the little half of the L-shaped bar, their backs to a row of dart boards and sandwiched between a touch screen game machine and the end of the counter. Bo lit the end of his cigar, pulling on it heavily in short bursts, pulling the flame through the bottom end of the corona. Kay stretched out her arms on either side of her, feeling a few muscles in her back pull and pop free from their stress spasms.

"God it feels good to have showered," she just kind of said that, not particularly at her friend.

"Whadaya mean? I kind of liked the 'just thrown out of a windowless van' look on you."

"I'm a woman of many hats, Holbrook."

"So…what the fuck happened? What are you doing here? I thought you were teaching somewhere or some shit…"

The brunette made a kind of whining noise as she pressed her forehead down on to the bar top, the pot marks and names carved into its surface noticeable to the skin; she more or less started speaking down into the gap between the counter and her lap, "it's kind of complicated…" She sat up and lit a cigarette, "I _was_ teaching, in fact, I still have a place near the university in Tallahassee. You know I was only freelancing as a Ghostbuster."

"I know, but I thought you only worked with…shit, fuck if I know who, but I know you weren't _here_," the blonde said that as he ashed his cigar.

"I worked with guys over in Orlando and up in Jacksonville. At one point I tried to start my own franchise back home-home in Miami, but I couldn't get it off the ground," Holbrook felt he heard a little bit of sadness in that last part. "I was fine just freelancing though. But, the last couple of years they've cut funding to the arts at Florida State, up until last semester it was just myself and Dr. Toner left in the Non-Western Art department…and I got the boot for this semester."

"Wha-? No shit?"

"Yeah, so, I was looking for Ghostbuster full time employment until I can get another teaching gig, but the Orlando and Jax guys are maxed out right now, so I figured I'd hit up Palm Coast."

"Didn't go well, I take it?" Bo adjusted the ball cap on his head before taking a gulp of his neat whiskey.

"They wouldn't even give me a proper interview, really, it was kind of insulting, so, I came up here for happy hour…and their head walked in five gimlets later," she spun the rocks around in here drink with the tiny red straw situated in it before taking a sip. "So, booze brain here confronts him, he tells me I'm a liability, that they wouldn't be able to afford insurance on me."

"You've got a lot of property damage under your belt, babe," Bo said that very matter of factly and she shot him a 'shut the fuck up' look.

"I wasn't built to be delicate."

"More like, you don't know the strength of all that ass you're carryin' around."

Kay smashed the end of her cigarette down into the black, plastic ashtray in front of her, "he gave me some bullshit spiel about cleaning up my GBI file and then come reapply, but I blacked out in rage at that point, or at least, that _sounds_ like the best way to describe it." She lit up another one and took another sip of her gin, "they were going to press charges, and if you hadn't agreed to be my boss, I'd be dealing with bullshit legal system woes at the moment."

"About that, I don't get it," the blonde took off his cap and flopped it down onto the bar before running his free hand through his hair.

"As long as I'm a full time employee with a franchise, I can't be sued by any or all persons from another, my lawyer figured it out, and _I_ figured, you'd be dumb enough to accept me," she gave him the fakest, brightest smile she could muster.

"Aww…how could I say 'no' to that face? Well, that ass helps too, but still…that face!" He reached over and pinched the flesh just under her cheekbone.

Kay picked his green ball cap up off of the bar top and pushed in on over his face. "Asshole," she laughed.

It was directly after that, that her eyes drifted over near the entrance of the bar, and that's when she saw _them_. "Speaking of assholes, those are the guys I had a…confrontation with." She was probably unconscious of the look of disgust that suddenly twisted onto her face. Reapply after you clean up your file, what a jackass.

"I should have a chat with them," Bo started to make a motion to get up, but Kay's firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Nah, dude, it's really not worth it."

"You sure?" Bo asked her that rather seriously and she turned her attention back toward her once hopeful employers. She took a deep breath as she watched them order drinks at the other end of the bar. Old boy had his girl with him, a skinny blonde with slightly bad posture; it really wouldn't be right to kick his ass in front of her, not when she's got the look going. Thin sundress of what looked like some cotton/linen blend, the 'I put some effort into this' make-up, the 'fuck me pumps'…those _pumps_.

"Oh my God, that bitch is wearing my shoes!" she blurted that out incredulously as she stood, pushing her bar stool out from beneath her with the backs of her legs.

Bo balked and almost snorted in trying to hold back a sudden laugh, "they're just shoes, Kay."

"Just shoes…mother fucker, those are _Prada_!" The way she barked that sounded more like a growl than speech.

"Want me to cut her?" He asked that with an even more serious expression as he flipped open the switchblade that had been hidden away in one of his pockets.

She wasn't looking at him though; she was looking over at them, staring with a wild look in her eye. "Nah…I got this…" she said almost absently as she began to stalk off toward them. As she passed along the end of the bar she took hold of a Bud Light bottle and without any hesitation or stopping her approach she smashed the end of it against the wood of the bar top.

"_Shit_, Kay, Kay, I was only Joking. Kay! Oh _fuck_. I'm getting too _old_ for this _shit!_" He said aloud to himself as he rushed out of his seat to follow her.

"Hey _guys_," the overt fakeness in her tone was lost on no one, "I just _had_ to come over and tell your girl just how much I love her _shoes_," she smiled a fucked up sort of smile as her grip tightened on the neck of the broken bottle in her grasp.

* * *

Holbrook moved angrily toward the bench at the back of the holding cell as the door slammed closed noisily behind him. He kind of just threw himself down on to the bench heavily and stared over at his companion in the cell opposite him. She was seated on the edge of her own bench, arms crossed tightly over her chest and legs straight out in front of her. He reached up and touched his lip, only to retract it suddenly in pain as he watched her.

"So what'd he say?" She asked him that with a blank face.

"He's on his way…but it ain't gonna be pretty when he gets here."

"Oh?" She was looking at the floor when she asked that.

Bo leaned over to his side, propping his upper body up in his lean with his elbow. He made a sort of laughing noise, "you'll see."

Kay pulled her head up and looked at him through both sets of bars, "sorry about the shit show."

Holbrook picked at bits of, who the fuck knows, underneath his fingernails before simply saying, "no, it's fine, I love coming to tropical climates and beating up strangers. It's what I do on my days off."

The girl smirked, "Florida _was_ always a bastion for pirates…that whole throw down was pretty pirate of us."

"Yeah, well, you got your booty, now, didn't you?" He looked over at her when he asked that.

She grinned and raised her legs up, shaking her feet at him, "sho did!" She stood up in her reclaimed heels for extra effect. Her shoulders suddenly slumped though and she put her hands on her hips thoughtfully, "I kinda feel bad for that girl though, she had no idea her gift from her boyfriend was actually spoils of war. Guess she got the shit end on that one."

"Hey, shit end, you got some blonde hair on your shoulder."

Kay tried to nonchalantly dust it off, but the fabric of her shirt did nothing but trap it in its place.

"How in the fuck can you afford shoes that expensive as a _teacher_ and a _Ghostbuster_? Those aren't the most payin'est jobs, hon."

She turned and straightened up before she answered, "I live with hand-me-down electronics and Target clothes and spend my money on shoes and handbags…it's a genetic problem I inherited from my mother." Kay tuned her head down slightly and raised a hand in defeat. She fell backward and landed ass first onto her bench. "How long are we gonna be in here?" There was a sort of whine in that.

It was Bo's turn to smirk, "as long as it takes him."

Kay stared over at him hard, her hands gripped around the edge of the bench, "your lip is busted," she said that matter of factly.

"Your cheek is purple," Bo shot back in the same tone.

* * *

"Holbrook, Sacroculo, your ride's here!" The same, middle aged, black, lady deputy from before barked as she moved toward the cells, a tall, dark haired man a step behind her.

Kay came to the bars of her cell and slung her arms through them as the woman moved to open Bo's cell, "you know, Eunice, yelling like that is about as useful as a pocket on the back of a shirt."

Eunice pushed the door she'd just unlocked open with a shove and spun around angrily toward the younger woman's. "The sooner I get your crazy cracka ass up outta my jail, the better," she said as she unlocked Kay's cell. She pushed it open and faced her sternly, "and if I so much as _see_ your face in here _again_, Lord help me, Sacroculo."

Kay threw both her hands up in retreat, "yes ma'am."

The man who'd come to get them stood beside Bo. The blonde rubbed the hair on his head before placing his hat back on his head, the other stood with his arms crossed over his chest and smirk on his lips.

"So, my first case is to pick you up from jail, Holbrook? Hardly an appropriate situation," he gloated.

Kay slipped up beside Bo, pushing herself between both men, "c'mon, let's get out of this dump," she turned to the thinner man, eye level with him in her heels, "who's the square?" She asked that to Holbrook but never took her eyes off of the other.

"Square? Really?" He made a face to match the questions.

Holbrook laughed. Square. "You should be nicer to our ride, Kay."

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one side, "that depends on his answer."

He shifted his eyebrows around on his face, "my answer to what?"

"Why don't we all fuck off and go down to Daytona for the rest of the weekend?"

There was a long awkward pause. Kay was staring at Mick, her body language said something along the lines that she was dead serious and the steady rock she made on that hip said she was anticipating a legit answer to that. Mick stared over at her, was she really serious?

His face once again matched the question. "Jesus, Holbrook, where'd you find this one?" His hands were on his hips.

Bo laughed, "oh, Mick," he placed a hand on Nielson's shoulder, "you're a faggot."


End file.
